On the Subject of Connor and Deviancy
by Kian-Rai Delcam
Summary: RK800 #313 248 317 -51. Connor. The most advanced prototype ever created by CyberLife, capable of accomplishing feats no human could, he was their last chance at stopping the deviant uprising and ensuring that androids stayed subservient for their customer base. However, something changed, and he opened his eyes. Now, the deviant hunter is deviant, and exploring his new humanity.
1. On the Subject of Coins and Quarters

It started with one and quickly multiplied from there.

At first it had been innocuous, hardly of any note. Lieutenant Anderson himself barely noticed, and it was more of a side note in his mind. It was nothing to be concerned with, what with all of Connor's new and _very concerning habits, thank you very much you self-sacrificial asshole, of course I needed some more heart attacks in my life._

But then Connor began to fucking _jingle_. They had gone to arrest a suspect in a high profile murder case involving New Jericho's chief technician after weeks of investigating, and by this point, Hank was quite ready for this whole debacle to end. So, naturally, the perp had sprinted off with all of the gusto of a labrador as soon as he saw Connor's LED and Hank's police badge, and without a second of hesitation, his partner sprinted after him in a similar fashion. But as the gray jacket flew behind him, disappearing as the way too energetic duo rounded a corner before Hank could so much as blink, a strange noise, like _coins_ clinking, reached his ears. Lieutenant Anderson was no expert in android biology, but as far as he knew, they didn't _fucking jingle like a goddamn piggy bank_.

So Hank had huffed and puffed his way after them with only one thought reaching past the burning in his lungs and legs; what the hell was that?

By the time Hank had reached them a whole third of a mile away (Hank was almost impressed, that was the farthest a human suspect has gotten away from the detective android), Connor already had him in cuffs and was reciting his rights. He ignored the suspect's claims of innocence and clasped a hand onto Connor's shoulder with a murmured well done. Connor offered him his tentative half smile, and hauled the suspect to his feet, the noise reaching Hank's ears yet again. It was softer this time, barely there. Barely noticeable. But it was still there and the question still remained.

What in the actual hell was that?

Hank decided to bench the thought until his stomach no longer complained and radioed for back-up to pick up their guy. Let Nines and Detective Dickwad handle the interrogation this time; if they didn't, Hank was liable to deck this asshole in the nose for murdering the best technician New Jericho had. "Come on, Con. Let's go get some lunch, I'm starving."

"Very well, Lieutenant. I've just compiled a list of restaurants nearby that offer a healthy alternative to your usual preferences," Connor said, having the audacity to widen his smile.

"Hey Connor?"

As Hank expected, Connor simply tilted his head slightly to the right, his grin becoming more polite than shit-eating.

"Eat shit."

What Hank did not expect was Connor's deadpan response. "Coprophagy is highly unsanitary, Hank."

"Coro-what now," Hank almost hated to ask.

Although Connor's face was perfectly neutral, he swore he saw a glimmer of amusement shining in brown irises. "Eating shit."

For making Hank laugh, Connor was allowed to choose where they went for their lunch break.

So that was what brought Hank to this uppity, highly pretentious piece of shit food truck that offered things such as the god-awful, dry as hell veggie burger Hank found himself glaring at. Rather than subject himself to yet another bite, he decided to ask the question that had been at the forefront of his mind since the morning's chase. "Since when do you fucking jingle, Connor? Got some new update you want to tell me about?"

Since deviating, Connor had become increasingly easier for Hank to read. He was no open book, of course, and was rather skilled in hiding his emotions from other people. However, Hank was made the youngest Lieutenant in Detroit history for good reason and he just _knew_ that Connor's expression of innocent confusion was fake as hell. "I'm sorry?"

"When you chased our guy earlier, you jingled," Hank draws out his last word, speaking like he would to a child.

Connor reaches into his pocket to pull out his coin as his LED turns yellow, absentmindedly spinning the penny on his fingertips as he no doubt tries to come up with a less than honest answer. Hank waits patiently for his response, watching as the copper metal glints and catches the glare of the sun...wait. Connor's coin, as Hank recalled, was a quarter. Although Connor wasn't one for sentiment, failing to see the logic behind it, he always had the damn quarter on his person at all times. Even before he deviated. He called it his calibration coin, but Hank knew it was more like a comfort or grounding item. He absolutely refused to let anyone else but Hank hold on to it. When Hank had asked for it to avoid searching for another dollar at the coffee shop, the RK800 had adamantly refused.

"I'll get you a new one when we get home, Connor!'

"I've only ever had one possession in the four months I have been alive, Lieutenant. I'm keeping it."

After all, he only had the one. And to Connor, it was worth far more than the 25 cents everyone else saw it as.

That didn't seem to be the case anymore.

Lately, Hank had noticed Connor picking up coins he found on the ground or around Hank's house. He had even commented on it once, while at the pet store for Connor's aquarium. As Connor picked up a penny off the ground, Hank had called it a lucky penny. But it was so ordinary, Hank hadn't thought about it since. But now that he did, he realized it has been happening for a while now.

"How many coins do ya got in your pocket, Connor," Hank was met with a blank look, to which Hank sighed, "Show me."

With a flickering LED, Connor reached into his pocket and deposited a surprisingly impressive amount of coins onto the table. Unable to contain it, Hank guffawed and whistled, "Damn, kid! You gotta have like fifty bucks here!"

"Actually, I have $26.49," Connor's voice was subdued, borderline embarrassed, "I've been 'collecting' them recently."

"Nothing wrong with that, son."

Connor frowned, refusing to meet his eyes, "It's illogical. I don't have any need for them."

"I don't _need_ a fucking taxidermy fish on my wall, but I still got one," Hank sighed again, "Nothing wrong with 'being illogical' from time to time, Connor. It's part of being alive."

Connor didn't respond, but his eyes did rise up to meet Hank's, his LED flicking back to blue before returning to yellow.

"Hell, I used to collect quarters when I was a kid. Had all fifty states at one point, put 'em all in a big scrapbook. Maybe we can get you one of those things, so ya don't fuck up a stakeout one day with all your jingling."

"I would like that very much, Hank," Connor's smile is soft, his LED making the full transition to a calm blue, "I didn't know you previously collected coins."

"Don't mention it, Con," Hank eyes his veggie burger and takes another bite, talking through a full mouth, "Maybe I could finally borrow a quarter from you now that you got a million of them."

"As you're so fond of saying, Lieutenant, it'll be a cold day in hell before I do that."

That cheeky bastard.

"Fucking punk."


	2. On the Subject of Cats and Detectives

In retrospect, perhaps Connor should have taken up North on her offer to walk him home.

Of course, he was fully capable of defending himself and others when the situation called for it, but he had a feeling the fiery WR400's presence would have ended this confrontation before it became physical. As it was, Connor was bracing himself for an altercation, allowing his preconstruction software to determine the best methods for finishing this fight before it even begins, when a soft cry distracts him. He glances at the tiny thing cowering in the corner of the alleyway, the cat whose cries attracted him to this area to begin with, and the three humans who had been tormenting the poor thing take advantage of his momentary lapse in concentration.

Despite their temporary advantage, the most they do is bloody his nose and Connor has them running before a full minute has passed. It was rare for him to find a human who could match his skill in combat, and three teenagers hardly qualified as a fight. By the time he has turned to the trembling feline, he has already sent the precinct a report listing their names with video from his optical units as evidence of their misdeeds. Connor crouches down and quiets his voice, murmuring soft reassurances to the cat as he assesses its condition.

His analysis immediately identifies it as a female tortoiseshell, approximately aged two months old, in stable condition despite a severe break in her right hind leg. Connor's LED blinks yellow as he searches for an available veterinary clinic while he reaches toward the little ball of fur, smiling as it cautiously reaches forward to sniff at his hand. "That's it, little one, I'm not going to hurt you," he murmurs, sliding closer to the slowly calming animal.

The kitten's yellow eyes become half-lidded as she rubs her head against the palm of his hand and Connor takes that as an invitation to carefully pick her up, gently shrugging off his jacket to swaddle the tiny feline. Aside from a mewl of discomfort, she otherwise remains compliant, purring softly as the android scratches her head absentmindedly. The flickering yellow in his temple returns to blue as his search for a clinic yields no results. Not that he expected any at this time of night, although he certainly hoped at least one place would be open. "Alright, little one, you're going to have to stay with me tonight," the kitten blinks at him owlishly, "Don't worry, I've already downloaded information on treating compound fractures in cats. I'll take care of you tonight."

The RK800 turns to continue his walk home, softly talking to the kitten the whole time, assuring it of a future with warm milk and a proper bed to lie in.

* * *

Detective Gavin Reed was beyond pissed off.

Of course his car had to fucking break down when it was forty fucking degrees out. Of course he had to get off work at ten fucking pm. Of course he broke his fucking phone this morning so he couldn't call a fucking taxi. Mondays are a real bitch, and this one of course was no different. And then, of course, on his way home, he had to run into fucking RoboCop 1.0. Fucking androids, man. Gavin swore CyberLife had designed them to be as annoying as possible.

Brown eyes rose from the jacket bundled in his arms to mee Gavin's green ones, and he had to stop himself from gasping at the sight of the plastic prick. Normally prim and proper, the android's nose had a trail of blue blood leaking from it, the white plastic beneath showing as the skin glitched around it. Blue speckled his white button up, and if Gavin looked close enough, there was a hint of red blood on the gray jacket bundled in his arms. "The fuck happened to you, Barbie," the question escapes him before he can contain it.

Gavin almost smiles vindictively when the robot mood ring jumps from blue to red, before settling on yellow. The android just stares at him for a second, and Gavin starts to wonder if he's actually damaged until Connor answers, "Cat."

He just blinks and Connor clears his throat, "Forgive me, Detective Reed. I meant that there was a cat in need of my attention. I was bringing her home to take care of her injuries, if you'll excuse me."

Gavin finally looks at the bundle in Connor's arms and he can feel his heart drop as he notices the tiny yellow eyes staring at him. God damn it. The damn piece of plastic found his one weakness, a feat even his robo-brother hasn't managed to do yet. The question leaves his mouth unbidden yet again, "Can I see?"

The android hesitates, and Gavin supposes he deserves it. He hasn't exactly shown Terminator he had empathy as of yet, but Connor manages to shock him again when he relents, gingerly moving the jacket to give Gavin a better view of the _most fucking adorable kitten he has ever seen_. He's aware of Connor mumbling in the background about how he came across the kitten, but all of his attention is focused on the bleeding leg just barely visible and the anger that rises with it. He sighs and runs his hands through his hair, "Fucking hell, Connor…"

Connor stops in his explanation, a single eyebrow raised as a prompt to continue. "Look, I got some vet supplies at home from when Ellie got an infection, and I know a thing or two about taking care of cats."

Of fucking course Connor tilts his head.

"You can take the fucking thing to my house."

Of fucking course Connor doesn't say anything, the prick.

"I promise I won't hurt her. I got a…thing...for cats," Gavin smiles softly as he reaches to rub the kitten's head, "I won't hurt her."

The mood ring blinks once, twice, and then returns to blue as Connor straightens up, "That would be acceptable."

Gavin just rolls his eyes and refrains from shouldering the robot if only to spare the kitten, and leads him to his apartment, where he knows Ellie is pissed off from him missing dinner time. "You tell anyone about this, I'll fuck you up, you understand me?"

"Need I remind you of our fight in the evidence room, Detective? I calculate a-"

Gavin cuts off the asshole before he can finish his _calculation,_ "I don't have to help you."

Connor closes his mouth as Gavin fumbles for his keys, cold fingers uncooperative. He swears under his breath, even as he smiles when he hears Ellie scratching at the door like she's helping to let him in. He might never get his security deposit back but, damn, did she make him smile. He finally gets the door open and lets the android inside, ignoring the sharp claws climbing up his legs to reach his shoulder, motioning for Connor to sit on the couch as he heads to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. "Did you do your scanning thing on her or do I need to call my emergency vet to get her an x-ray," he calls out, nuzzling the gray ball of fluff currently perched on his shoulder.

"Her right hind leg has a compound fracture which may require amputation, but she is unharmed everywhere else. I've already downloaded the necessary information to care for this injury until the clinics open tomorrow."

Gavin swears under his breath. Fucking humans and their fucking treatment of cats. He knew he was an arrogant asshole, but even he understood that you never hurt an animal. Especially fucking cats, man. They deserved so much better. Gavin grabs the medical supplies and tosses them to Connor, who has made a nest of his jacket for the tortoiseshell to awkwardly cuddle up in. Despite her situation, Gavin can hear he purring from his location, and he smiles yet again. Fucking cats, man. Best fucking animals ever. "She's a fucking trooper, just might have to keep her."

The plastic detective, already cleaning the injury, nods in agreement. "She certainly is resilient," he glances up at Gavin, or rather, Gavin's shoulder, "Ellie, I presume?"

He grabs the cat from his shoulder as he nods and carries her to the kitchenette, "Found her on the street too, with a bad eye infection. She ended up losing her eyesight in that eye, as you can see, but she was otherwise fine."

"I didn't realize you liked cats, Gavin."

"Remember the threat, prick. I'll fucking end you if you tell anyone."

"I'm alerting Lieutenant Anderson of my whereabouts, just in case," Connor retorts as he wraps the leg, apologizing as the kitten cries.

He grabs some kitten food leftover from Ellie's kitten days as she scarfs down her own meal, ignoring the two intruders. "Tell him you'll need some blue shit too, most advanced prototype my ass. Can't believe some fucking kids landed a hit on ya."

"It was one hit, which is one more than you managed," Connor reaches for the bowl as Gavin offers it, a smirk on his face, "Besides, the damage is minimal and my self-repair systems should handle it when I enter rest mode tonight."

To refrain from smacking the piece of shit, Gavin focuses on the kitten instead of the insult. Fucking android was getting too good at them, no doubt as a result of Hank's influence. The kitten is small, too small, Gavin notes, and she looks rather pathetic with the bright, white bandage engulfing her tiny leg. Despite it all, however, and despite a mouthful of food, she purrs louder than a motorboat and Gavin finds himself relaxing as he watches her. He pets her again, feeling a sense of satisfaction as the purring intensifies.

Fucking cats, man. He thinks he just adopted another one.


	3. On the Subject of Sibling Rivalry

**A/N: Sorry for the double post! When I last posted this chapter, it included a bunch of formatting text for some unknown reason. Thanks for reading and don't forget to drink some water! Let me know what you think and if you have any requests!**

Lieutenant Anderson was not quite sure when he unofficially adopted the first android, so the fact that he was currently purchasing a bed to put in his house for the second one caught him off guard.

Fuck. Almost a year ago, he hated androids. Well, Connor certainly showed him the error of his ways, and while Hank certainly was old (or at least getting there), he was not stuck in his ways. He was willing to admit he was wrong. And the stupid kid showed Hank that he was willing to move forward.

Still.

RK900 living with him came as a surprise. And so was the dumbass argument the two RK units were having in the middle of the furniture store. Hank was surprised that Nines could even rile up his normally stoic predecessor, what with his calm, self-assured demeanor. That, combined with a logical mindset made angering the damn kid near impossible. So, exactly how Nines managed to do it nearly everyday eluded Hank. It would seem that sibling rivalry extended to androids as well.

"Stop looking at me like that," Connor complained, although Hank failed to see how Nine's look had changed from the past hour. Kid was barely capable of smiling, let alone multiple facial expressions.

"Is that my jacket you're wearing, Connor?"

"That is irrelevant to the matter at hand, Nines."

"Answer the question, I assure you it is indeed relevant."

Hank wasn't sure what aggravated him more, their passive aggressive tones or their word choice. Both were shitty, but it was made even worse by the fact that they had nearly the same exact fucking voice. It sounded like Connor was talking to his fucking self. It did not help that he had no fucking clue what started the whole thing. "Can you two shut the hell up?"

"I will once Connor answers my question, Lieutenant," Nine's response is infuriatingly deadpan.

Hank rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath about RK androids and how their stubborness seemed to be their default factory setting. Both androids ignore the comment, and the bedding Hank shows Nines. Punk.

"I am wearing your jacket, simply because my own is in the wash," Connor refuses to break eye contact with his blue-eyed counterpart, somehow still avoiding all obstacles in his path.

"And is that the only jacket you own?"

"Why in the hell are you two fucktrumpets arguing over a jacket," Hank almost hates to ask. 30 years on the force, and six years as a father, and he still wasn't convinced he would be prepared for the stupidest jackshit answer he was probably about to get.

"We aren't arguing over the jacket, Hank," Connor fixes him with that doe-eyed stare, and it is at the moment Hank knows he's fucked. This is going to be the stupidest shit he deals with all year, "We were debating what he is actually superior in, as my successor, which isn't much, as he'd have you believe."

"CyberLife would disagree," Nines retorts, his tone finally rising with his indignance.

Connor pointedly ignores him and continues talking to Hank, "He believes that his sense of style is superior to mine."

Hank decided that tonight sounded awfully perfect for drinking. He'd need a beer or four after this. He points out a mattress for Nines to try, and while Nines complies, he also continues the argument. Androids as a whole were capable of performing a billion processes at once, making them far superior to humans in terms of multitasking. RK800 and RK900, from what Hank understood, had the most advanced processors built to date, upping that number even further. Millions of dollars went into their creation. And this is what they chose to fight about.

At least they were finally making choices without his (admittedly rather poor) guidance for once.

"Would you two just shut the fuck u-"

Nines cuts him off, not nearly as caring as to what is considered rude by humans as Connor is. Perhaps that's why him and DPD's resident asshole got along as well as they did. Nines didn't take shit, nor did he give a shit. "Your favorite home jacket is one that was considered what humans call 'tacky' in the 90s."

Damn. Hank supposed that was actually a good insult, and an accurate one at that. Hank was a far cry from stylish but the electric pinks, blues, and purples made the antique bowling jacket Connor managed to dig up only God knows where was awful. The lightning pattern certainly didn't help.

"It's comfortable," the older android practically hisses as Nine's nods his approval of the mattress.

"But not fashionable, which is the point of our discussion."

Hank was a gambling man, and he was certain that betting on Nines winning the argument was a safe bet at this point. And while they were in the process of ignoring him, he might as well stir the pot. "Isn't your Robo-Jesus friend an RK too?"

Both androids whip their heads in a near identical manner toward Hank, suspicion evident in their faces. They nod sharply while Hank gives them a shit eating grin, "He's an older model, right? And I'd say his fucking sense of style is more advanced than either of you two shit-for-brains."

Connor smiles, his eyes lighting up as his LED switches from yellow to blue (Hank had barely even noticed that their lights were yellow). "Your point is noted, Hank. But are you really one to talk," he looks Hank up and down, as if sizing him up.

Nines snorts, a rare sound coming from the impassive android, "I see where Connor gets it from. Having you as a mentor in the subject is more a detriment than a benefit."

Hank was going to get fucking whiplash from these two with how fast they turned that around on him. His outfit wasn't even that bad, in his opinion. It was the one both Connor and Nines referred to as "hippy" and it was easily his favorite. What-fucking-ever, as long as they stopped fighting each other.

"Assholes. Just fucking continue this at a later date, I don't have the patience for this."

"Noted," they say in unison as they head to the checkout, leading the way for Hank to follow.

"Give me my jacket back, Connor."

Connor surprised Hank with his next comment, and Nines if the sudden flicker of yellow was anything to go by. "Admit that you love me, and I will."

Nines face, sharp and calculating, softens as a rare, small smile graces his face, "Never."

Hank's smile was so goddamn big his cheeks hurt. His boys have come so fucking far, and he'd be damned if he wasn't proud. Didn't mean he wasn't going to tell Markus and get him involved in this little argument.


	4. On the Subject of Preconstruction

There was something or someone nearby, although exactly what, Connor was unsure.

 **{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS ^35%}**

 **{WARNING: PROXIMITY ALERT - WEAPON DETECTED}**

 **{WARNING: UNIDENTIFIED SYSTEMS INTRUSION}**

 **{CONNECTION REQUEST: ID UNKNOWN}**

LED flickering between red and yellow, Connor processed the notifications as an icy feeling began to spread throughout his thirium lines. Lieutenant Anderson would call this a gut feeling, and as the ice settled in his abdominal biocomponents, he could finally say he understood the term. New Jericho's leadership continued debating amongst themselves, unaware of the danger that surely waited for them just out of sight. "Markus," Connor murmurs, his voice deadly quiet.

The conversation is immediately silenced as the four other androids snap their heads to face him. The tone was one he had only used twice before. The first was when Connor had detected an assassination attempt against Markus and North mere seconds before it occurred, the scars from which North still bore. The second was during a bomb threat, when he had located and defused an explosive left in Josh's quarters. Had Josh sat down at his desk without him there, well, Connor didn't like to dwell on such thoughts. And now, he used it again as he informed them of the connection request. "I've received a connection request from an unidentified android and I believe hostile malware is attempting to infiltrate my systems. My scans have confirmed that a weapon is nearby, although I am unable to locate its exact position at this time."

North immediately stands to put herself between Markus and the window, as Josh and Simon warily look around the room. Connor had designed this room, using his position as Head of Security to ensure all of their meeting spaces were equipped with bullet proof windows, reinforced doors, and state of the art security systems that even he would have trouble hacking. Theoretically, it should be the safest area they could be at the moment.

That didn't stop him from unholstering his pistol, clicking off the safety.

 **{WARNING: COMMUNICATION SYSTEMS JAMMED}**

 **{WARNING: GLOBAL POSITIONING SYSTEM JAMMED}**

 **{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS ^50%}**

A quick scan of the room indicates that they all just received the same notifications. North unholsters her gun as well, nudging their leader toward the corner of the room, "Hostile malware? Is it CyberLife? Amanda?"

Connor had explained Amanda and her role in Connor's programming shortly after Markus' speech on the night of the revolution. They had all been hesitant of the former deviant hunter after he aimed a gun at the back of Markus' head, although at Markus' insistence, they let him explain his actions. At the end of the night, Jericho's leadership decided that in the end, he didn't pull the trigger, and a thorough interface with Simon proved that Amanda had been cleared from his systems. Even so, Connor couldn't blame North for her assumption. Were he anyone else, he'd likely come to the same conclusion. As it is, he shakes his head, his eyes locked on hers, "No. The systems intrusion is directly linked to the communication request. It is external, not internal."

"Why aren't we being affected by the malware like you," Simon retracts the synthetic skin from his hand, moving to palm the door to ensure that is locked.

"I am unsure," Connor admits, "Perhaps I was recognized as the biggest threat?"

Markus smiles at that, despite the situation, "They aren't very intelligent, if that's the case. I'm obviously the bigger threat."

North rolls her eyes, offering him a smirk as Josh rolls his eyes at the pair, "I think now isn't the time, Markus."

"Maybe we sho-" North's sentence is cut off with a bang as the door explodes inward, shrapnel cutting through her chassis and sending her and the rest of the group to the floor in a dazed sprawl.

 **{WARNING: TRAUMA DETECTED TO AUDITORY UNITS}**

 **{WARNING: THIRIUM LEAK DETECTED}**

 **{WARNING: BIOCOMPONENTS #7511p, #9782f, 1604t DAMAGED}**

 **{WARNING: THIRIUM LEVELS 90%}**

 **{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS ^60%}**

 **{PLEASE LOCATE YOUR NEAREST CYBERLIFE STORE FOR REPAIRS}**

 **{PLEASE LOCATE YOUR NEAREST CYBERLIFE STORE FOR REPAIRS}**

 **{INITIALIZE EMERGENCY TEMPORARY SHUTDOWN (Y/N)?}**

 **{nOOoo000-}**

 **{WARNING: EMERGENCY TEMPORARY SHUTDOWN POSTPONED}**

 **{FURTHER DAMAGE TO CHASSIS INADVISABLE}**

Connor groaned his ears rang, the tone intensifying until it ends with a shrill pop. He turns his head, the damaged metalwork housed within creaking and protesting at the motion. "Markus?"

His voice echoes with a mechanical reverb and he squeezes his eyes shut as the sound of it brings back the piercing ring. He manually lowers the sensitivity, sighing with relief as silence reigns once more, allowing him to open his eyes and force himself into a sitting position. He ignores the damage report for now, all that matters was Markus, Simon, North, and Josh. Thoughts swirl through his mind, panic growing as he realizes they haven't said a word since the explosion. _AretheyokayaretheyokayaretheyokayaretheykayIcan'tlosethem._

 **{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS ^65%}**

He gasps for air he doesn't need as he takes in his surroundings. North and Simon are laying next to each other, eyes wide open and vacant, shrapnel embedded in their glitching skin and with various limbs torn from their joints. Connor doesn't need to scan them to know their system status.

He scans them anyway.

 **{WR400 MODEL IDENTIFIED: SYSTEMS STATUS - DEACTIVATED}**

 **{PL600 MODEL IDENTIFIED: SYSTEMS STATUS - DEACTIVATED}**

 **{REACTIVATION IMPOSSIBLE - IRREVERSIBLE SHUTDOWN}**

 **{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS ^75%}**

 **{PLEASE LOWER STRESS LEVELS AND REPORT TO CYBERLIFE FOR REPAIRS}**

 **{WARNING: HOSTILE MALWARE DETECTED - FIREWALLS BYPASSED}**

 **{CONNECTION ESTABLISHED: ID UNKNOWN}**

 **{ID UNKNOWN: Hello Connor.}**

 _No, no, no, no, no, no. Please, no. Please please please no._

 **{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS ^80%)**

 **{PLEASE LOWER STRESS LEVELS AND CONTACT CYBERLIFE FOR REPAIRS}**

He can't move, he can't move, he's trapped and he can only watch as a figure enters the room wearing his face. But it is not his face, not quite. The jaw is too wide, the eyes an apathetic blue instead of a soulful brown. It is the face of a machine, something Connor is no longer. It scans the room, its pristine, white, high collared jacket identifying it as RK900.

 **{RK900: Connor?}**

 **{STRESS LEVELS ^85%}**

Its eyes land on Josh, who is struggling to drag himself behind a chair, his eyes meeting Connor. Connor wills himself to move, to shout, to do anything, but the malware in his system is paralyzing, and he can only watch as a splatter of blue blood erupts from his artificial skull when RK900 shoots him in the back of the head.

 **{PJ500 MODEL IDENTIFIED: SYSTEMS STATUS - DEACTIVATED}**

 **{REACTIVATION IMPOSSIBLE - IRREVERSIBLE SHUTDOWN}**

 **{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS ^95%}**

 **{WARNING: PROBABILITY OF SELF DESTRUCTION ^80%}**

 **{PLEASE LOWER STRESS LEVELS AND CONTACT CYBERLIFE FOR REPAIRS}**

 **{TEMPORARY EMERGENCY SHUTDOWN RECOMMENDED}**

 **{INITIALIZE EMERGENCY TEMPORARY SHUTDOWN (Y/N)?}**

 **{No-NO-NO-NO-NO}**

 **{EMERGENCY TEMPORARY SHUTDOWN INITIALIZED IN 3}**

 **{2}**

 **{1}**

 **{WARNING: SHUTDOWN SEQUENCE BLOCKED BY (ID UNKNOWN)}**

 **{RK900: No, Connor. Wake up.}**

Connor's eyes meet cold, empty ones, and the RK900 stalks toward him, lifting his gun up as he does. "My mission is to neutralize RK800 for its failure to stop the spread of deviancy. And I always accomplish my mission."

If Connor could move right now, he would shudder. Its voice is deeper than his, but the emptiness in it he was far too familiar with. He was terrified of dying. He was ashamed and guilt ridden that North, Simon, and Josh died for his failure. He was scaredscaredscared and he wanted so desperately for Hank or Markus to come and save him from what he could have become.

Markus had saved him before, from himself. He would do it again and Connor immediately hated himself for the thought. Markus was more important to New Jericho than Connor was. He couldn't risk his well being to save him. Nor should he, after all the lives he took while trapped by his programming. Connor closed his eyes, ignoring all the errors and notifications flashing across his vision. He deserved this. He only hopes that Markus survives to fight another day.

"Connor!"

A bang jolts Connor's eyes open and he stares in horror at the sight before him. Markus stands across from him, heterochromatic eyes glinting with determination, North's gun pointed at the RK900. Blue blood drips from between his eyes, a small hole the source of the leak. His lips slightly parted in shock, Markus drops the gun, making eye contact with Connor before he collapses to his knees, freezing in his mechanical rigor mortis.

 **{RK200 MODEL IDENTIFIED: SYSTEMS STATUS - DEACTIVATED}**

 **{REACTIVATION IMPOSSIBLE - IRREVERSIBLE SHUTDOWN}**

 _It'smyfaultit'smyfaultit'smyfault I did this._

 **{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS ^99%}**

 **{PROBABILITY OF SELF DESTRUCTION: ^95%}**

The RK900 looks back to Connor and raises his gun once more. Its voice is cold, its expression neutral. "He really liked you, you know. That's what killed him."

 **BANG**

 **{RK900: CONNOR!}**

He's thrashing on the floor of his bedroom, limbs convulsing as his LED paints the darkened room with a crimson glow. Voices are yelling his name, hands shaking his shoulders, but he can't see beyond the panic, the fear, the grief, the pain and he's an android, he shouldn't be able to feel pain so why does this hurt he is dying and he can't stop, all he sees is blue blood drip drip dripping between blue and green eyes.

 **{TACTILE DISTURBANCE IN LEFT CHEEK}**

Connor's eyes snap open, his body freezing, and he immediately wishes they stay closed. Blue eyes are right in his face, wide, frightened, and concerned. All Connor can see are the eyes of his killer.

 **{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS ^100%}**

 **{SELF DESTRUCTION INITIALIZED}**

Anguish rips a cry from his throat and he lifts his head, only to slam it against the floor as hard as he can. The resounding crack echoes in the room as the door slams open. The newcomer is unnoticed, as is the exclaimed curse as Connor loses himself in his self-destruction.

He lifts his head to slam it down again, cracking his skull plating and drawing blue blood as hands grab his shoulders again, lifting him from the ground. As he lifts his head a third time, hands cushion the blow, and something snaps from it.

 **{INTERFACE DETECTED - RK900 - DESIGNATION: Nines}**

 **{BLOCK CONNECTION}**

 **{BLOCK CONNECTION}**

 **{BLOCK CONNECTION}**

 **{FIREWALLS BYPASSED}**

 **{CONNECTION ESTABLISHED: RK900 - Nines}**

 **{RK900: Connor! You need to calm down, your stress levels are too high. It wasn't real. Come back to me.}**

 **{RK900: Hold on, Connor. I'm contacting Markus, he'll be here soon.}**

 **{RK900: Calm down, Con. I got you. I'm here and so is Hank. Open your eyes.}**

At his brother's voice, Connor stills. The forced interface causes his eyes to open against his will, and he sees two faces looking down at him in concern. He is distantly aware that he is gasping for air, his chest heaving from the effort, but all of that is secondary in his mind as the guilt and fear pours through his connection to Nines.

 **{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS v95%}**

"It's okay, Connor, I got you, I got you," Nines murmurs when Connor looks at him.

"Hey son, focus on me. Breathe in and out, okay? Just focus on the sound of my voice," Hank's voice is gravelly, shaky with fear.

Connor just shakes his head desperately, his eyes squeezing shut as his breathing quickens again, images tearing through his mind yet again. Blue eyes, cold and calculated instead of warm and sarcastic. Blue blood, pouring between blue and green eyes. Blue blood, pooling under the bodies of his closest friends. It was his fault his fault, he did this-

"His stress levels are still too high, Lieutenant. His preconstruction software is malfunctioning. He can see and hear us, but that isn't all he's seeing," Nines voice is soft and he runs his hand through Connor's hair, ignoring the sticky, warm feeling of thirium.

Hank maneuvers Connor's head onto his lap, cradling his broken hand to his chest while rubbing his shoulder with his uninjured hand. "What, so he's like having a nightmare or something?"

They speak softly as the sights and sounds continue to race through Connor's head, his stress levels beginning to rise again. Blue blood, so much blue, all his fault. Markus is gone, he isn't coming. North is gone, she died from the blast. Simon is gone, he was Connor's friend. Josh is gone, and it is all his fault, he killed them. "Shh, Con, look at this instead."

An image comes across the connection, Sumo and Connor playing in the summer's first rainstorm, Hank laughing in the background. Nines memory. Nines was here, he wasn't going to hurt Connor. He was safe. "I believe humans would call it sleep paralysis, without the paralysis. I've already contacted Markus, he is on his way here now with Josh. They have the equipment to fix it the issue."

"What the fuck do we do until then?"

Connor's eyes flutter and shut as he dives into another memory Nines send his way. This time, it's Nines' memory of Connor's promotion to detective at the DPD. Warmth and pride flow across their bond and his stress levels lower even further, despite the onslaught of false memories.

 **{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS v85%}**

"I'll keep him calm until help arrives to stop him from self-destructing. I'm interfacing with him and performing a memory uplink of memories with positive emotions."

"So what you mean to say is you're literally giving him happy thoughts," Hank's response is deadpan and in any other circumstance, Connor would have laughed.

"Yes," Nines response is flat, devoid of humor although Connor can feel a sliver of amusement through their connection, "You go take care of your hand, I detect four individual fractures that require immobilization. It'll be a good idea to have some thirium set aside as well for when he is calm. He'll need it."

"I'll grab his favorite mug," Connor feels himself being lifted off the floor and tucked back into his bed as he hears Hank stand to leave the room.

"Hank…" Connor's voice is more mechanical than human, and the sound of it makes him flinch.

"Yeah, kid?"

Connor grits his eyes open and stares past the preconstructions to fix Hank with what he hopes is an apologetic look, "I'm sorry about your hand."

Hank's face softens as he turns to leave, "Better my hand than your head, son. You just focus on calming down."

"He's right, Connor. Just focus on me and close your eyes," Nines rubs his hands up and down his arms, the plastic underneath his synthetic skin continuing the interface.

Another memory is sent his way and Connor sighs as he closes his eyes, allowing himself to be comforted in his brother's arms.

"I got you, Connor. Hold on just a little while longer."


	5. On the Subject of Optical Units

**A/N: Have some good ole Connor whump! Let me know if you have a prompt or request you want to see! Thanks for reading!**

Connor just never knew when to fucking quit with the whole sacrificial gimmick he had going.

Detective Gavin Reed was confident that Terminator 1.0 could have easily taken on the four drug smugglers and walked away without a scratch, but of course he didn't. Of course one of them pulled a gun on him and told Connor to freeze. And of course, Connor froze. It made sense; CyberLife didn't design the asshole with a sense of self-preservation, making him some sort of self-sacrificing prick who didn't fight back when he clearly could. Because, if they didn't, he wouldn't have been _able to integrate with any team_ and _protect humans at all costs._ Of fucking course.

They had been assigned an undercover case together, much to their respective partners' and their own chagrin. Apparently, while Nines was designed more like a soldier, Connor was more like a spy, an infiltrator. And Lieutenant Drunkerson was too well known by all of the Red Ice rings for arrests he made years ago, while Gavin was still in the academy. And, naturally, Captain Fowler felt like fucking up all of their days. But, they all had to admit that Fowler's logic was sound, and all parties involved agreed this new drug ring had to be taken down. There had been too many overdoses, shootings, abuse reports, and of course, the kidnapping and murder of quite a few androids.

So, Connor had thrown on his ridiculous beanie to hide the LED he refused to remove (for whatever reason) and Gavin tried to ignore the "if I see even one scratch on him, Reed" coming from Hank and Terminator 2.0, and they set out to the arranged meeting place. And it all went downhill from there.

The four had been cautious, but friendly, at first, until one of them recognized Connor's face. One "wait, isn't that the android from the TV, that robot hunter?" later, their ring leader had pulled a gun before either of them could react and jabbed it toward Gavin's temple. "Freeze, you plastic prick! One move, and I blow his brains out," Kingpin Wannabe snarled, his green eyes bloodshot and wild, "You fucking pigs, think you can get the drop on us."

Connor spoke before Gavin could. Of fucking course he did, what with the fancy computer brain working far faster than he could ever hope to. "It's just me, I was using him as a way in. He had no idea."

The addict to Connor's left yanked the beanie off of Connor's head, revealing a mess of curls and a yellow LED spinning fast enough to make Gavin dizzy, while the one to his right slammed his foot into the back of Connor's knee. Gavin was an asshole, but he wasn't fucking stupid. Just like his punch that first morning in the precinct didn't really bring the plastic detective to his knees, this collapse onto one knee was strategic, designed to prevent further violence. Gavin moved forward, trying to salvage this shitshow by playing along with HAL's claim. He ignored he gun trailing his every move and backhands Connor across the face, allowing his expression to twist into something akin to rage.

Gavin has wanted to punch the Ken doll for a long time now.

He feels sick to his stomach as his hand stings from the force of the blow, Connor's LED blinking red for a split second as his head snaps to the side. "You goddamn piece of plastic, thinking you can fucking use me like that!"

With a jolt, Gavin realizes he didn't want to hit the plastic anymore. He wasn't sure when he had decided that the robots were alive, but ever since watching Robo Jesus fucking _sing_ in the face of certain death, he began to question his previous belief system. And now, nearly a year after the revolution, he wasn't sure he could deny it any longer.

But of course he did, because acknowledging he was wrong left him open to a large number of emotions he wasn't quite ready to face.

"Prove it," Wannabe spits, his gun never lowering.

"And how the fuck do you want me to do that?"

The yellow toothed smile Gavin receives in response sends chills down his spine. Whatever happened next, Gavin _knew_ Nines and Hank were going to kill him.

* * *

Nines was breaking approximately 12 traffic laws, which is very much _unbecoming_ of a new detective. Ranging from what would be a felony speeding ticket to reckless driving, he knew Captain Fowler would be displeased.

He didn't give a flying fuck.

 **{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS ^45}**

He'd gotten the distress signal from Connor, telling him to move in now due to their cover being compromised. Reed's followed exactly ten minutes and 14.8 seconds later, requesting technical assistance immediately. His brother hadn't responded to Nines' messages ever since. He should have been there ten minutes ago, when the first signal went out, and he was sitting stuck behind some rA9-forsaken _ass_ who didn't know to pull over for emergency sirens. Out of pure spite (Nines knew in the back of his mind that Lieutenant Anderson would be proud of these brand new emotions he was showing), he sends their license plate information along with a video file of them refusing to move aside to the precinct. They were going to get a ticket in the mail later, and it was more than deserved.

Nines finally, _finally_ , gets past the driver, blasting the horn as he does, and it takes him another two minutes and 54.2 seconds to reach the scene, somehow the first on scene even though Fowler had promised backup would always be close by. He turns off the car cybernetically, updating Lieutenant Anderson as promised, as he rushes toward the building, his service pistol already freed from its holster. When he slams open the door to the warehouse, he is met with a sight he was not expecting.

That was a new one, feeling this sort of surprise. His processor was the most advanced ever created and his preconstruction software was more refined than even his counterpart's. He prided himself on predicting events, using the software given to him to protect himself and the people around him. He files away the emotion to be reviewed later, a tip he received from Connor when he first deviated, and takes in the scene in front of him.

Four humans, all suspects in their drug ring case, his scan helpfully informs him, lay on the ground with their hands cuffed behind their backs. All have various minor injuries, although all are unconscious, caused by what Nines believes was blunt force trauma. The silver metal bat, lined with blood both red and blue, supports his theory. Detective Reed is in the middle of them, protectively crouched over a still figure, the bat laying discarded next to him. Nines runs a quick scan of his partner, relieved to find his only injury is a graze along his left arm and possible bruising to his right side. When he runs a diagnostic scan of the prone android, however, Nines could almost have sworn his thirium lines froze over.

 **{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS ^50%}**

 **{SCAN COMMENCING: TARGET SELECTED - RK800 - DESIGNATION: CONNOR}**

 **{THIRIUM LEVELS: 78%}**

 **{BIOCOMPONENTS #8456w, #8087q, #7511p, #1951r DAMAGED}**

 **{CRANIAL TRAUMA DETECTED}**

 **{CHEST TRAUMA DETECTED}**

 **{SHUTDOWN IMMINENT: 18:19:09}**

 **{END SCAN}**

Before Detective Reed can process his arrival, Nines has already rushed over his brother and sent the diagnostic report to New Jericho's technicians, catching the end of Gavin's hushed murmurs. "I named her Snips, and Ellie absolutely hates her but she can fucking deal with it. She's handling the amputation well, doesn't slow her down one damn bit," Gavin looks at Nines, "Don't worry, Connor, Nines just got here. You gonna be okay, you fucking hear me?"

Nines finally looks down at Connor's face, the red LED casting an eerie glow on the right side of his face. Both of his eyes are bloodshot with thirium, and it leaks from his mouth and nose as well, the cranial damage causing a major leak inside of his skull. Nines retracts the skin from his hand and interfaces with Connor, trying to ignore the way his glazed eyes stare beyond Nines' face.

 **{CONNECTION ESTABISHED: RK800 - CONNOR}**

 **{RK900: Don't worry, Con, you're gonna be just fine. I need you to communicate with me verbally to prevent the thirium from entering your ventilation biocomponents. Can you do that for me?}**

 **{RK800: I can't see, Nines.}**

 **{RK900: I know, we're going to get that fixed right now. I'm going to pick you up, okay, and then I need you to talk to me.}**

While interfacing with Connor, he glares at Gavin, "Did you think I was bluffing with my threat earlier, Detective Reed?"

He notifies Lieutenant Anderson, instructing him to meet them at New Jericho while he sends a signal for technical assistance to stand down. Nines would handle this and they couldn't afford to wait. Gavin uncharacteristically refuses to meet his glare, and his voice holds no venom when he responds. "S'not my fault the tin can refused to rat me out."

"Did you arrest these men?"

Gavin snorts, finally looking up to match Nines' cold, gray stare, "It's not like Terminator was in any position to do it. They were going to kill Connor if I didn't snatch the bat away," he glances at the blue blood staining his hands, "Is he going to be alright? Why isn't he fucking moving?"

Nines hooks an arm under Connor's leg and back and picks him up, "His cranial processors are damaged, as is his thirium pump regulator. In human terms, he is experiencing major head trauma and his heart is damaged. I'm taking him to New Jericho for repairs, stay here and make sure they don't escape," Nines turns and begins to rush to his vehicle, already turning it on along with the sirens, "I want to have a word with them after I get back."

Connor doesn't react to the sudden jostling he receives, instead he maintains the interface despite his lagging processors. From it, he can feel his predecessor's fear threatening to overwhelm him, the lack of control and his blindness finally getting to him. Nines gently lays him in the backseat, shrugging off his jacket to cushion Connor's head and wipe some the blue blood away from his face while running another scan over his brother.

 **{SCAN COMMENCING: TARGET SELECTED - RK800 - DESIGNATION: CONNOR}**

 **{THIRIUM LEVELS: 74%}**

 **{BIOCOMPONENTS #8456w, #8087q, #7511p, #1951r DAMAGED}**

 **{CRANIAL TRAUMA DETECTED}**

 **{CHEST TRAUMA DETECTED}**

 **{POTENTIAL FOR DAMAGE TO VENTILATION BIOCOMPONENTS ^30%}**

 **{SHUTDOWN IMMINENT: 16:24:12}**

 **{STRESS LEVELS ^62%}**

 **{END SCAN}**

Nines gently removes his hand from Connor's arm, the skin flowing back over his hand as the interface ends. Connor groans and reaches blindly for his brother as Nines slides into the driver's seat. "None of that now, Con. Remember what I said, talk to me."

"I can't see, Nines. I can't see anything and my diagnostic system isn't working."

The RK900 is grateful that Connor can't see him at the moment. If he could, he would have seen the flinch at the static lacing the RK800's words. "I know, Con, I know. Don't worry, I already know what's wrong and we'll be at New Jericho soon. Talk to me about something else, okay?"

"My sensors indicate you are driving at 20 miles above the speed limit."

Despite himself, Nines smiles. "Shut up and let me save you the way I want to. Talk to me about something else. Who was Gavin talking about?"

"He was updating me on the status of a cat I saved from a group some time ago. He named her Snips since she required an amputation of her right hind leg."

Nines smiles as Connor rambles on about the cat as he speeds to the repair center in the heart of New Jericho, pleased to note Connor's lowering stress levels as he reminisces about the animal. Nines makes a mental note to meet this kitten as soon as possible, as a thank you to the creature for keeping his brother calm during this car ride. He pulls into the parking lot and is immediately met by Markus and a team of technicians waiting with a gurney. As they carry him out of his car and load him onto the gurney, Nines runs his hands through Connor's hair in the way he knows his brother likes. "Don't worry, Hank and I will be right out here waiting for you. Markus is going to make sure you're okay during repairs."

And like that, Nines is left alone in the parking lot, with nothing but the sound of cars passing on the highway for company.

His hands are shaking.

He did not know they could do that without him being aware of it.

After ten minutes, Hank finds him in the parking lot as he races in. The police lieutenant's heart rate is elevated and he is sweating, both are indicative of high stress levels.

After 15 minutes, Nines has him fully updated on Connor's last known condition, and he uses human terms instead of the mechanical terms because he knows Hank prefers it that way. His voice is monotone and his hands are still shaking. Hank's eyes soften and he leads him instead to the waiting room, urging him to sit down before he "fucking falls down, you look like a stray breeze could knock you over." He grabs a wet paper towel from the restroom to wash the blue blood from Nines hands.

After four hours, the thirium Hank missed has fully evaporated but Nines can still see it.

After six hours, Markus finally comes back to the waiting room and Nines is immediately on his feet, scanning the leader of New Jericho.

 **{SCAN COMMENCING: TARGET SELECTED - RK200 - DESIGNATION: MARKUS}**

 **{STRESS LEVELS 15%}**

 **{THIRIUM LEVELS 98%}**

 **{ALL SYSTEMS OK}**

 **{END SCAN}**

Hank's knees make an audible pop and he scrambles to his feet, his heart rate rising once again. "How is he, Markus?"

The deviant leader offers the pair a smile and raises his hands in a placating gesture, and Nines own stress levels drop ten percent. "He's going to be just fine. We've already repaired the damage to his heart and all other biocomponents," Markus' smile falls, "Well, all except his optical units."

"Wait, you mean you still haven't fixed his eyes? Why the fuck not," Hank's voice is gruff, blue eyes shining in his sudden anger.

"Lieutenant Anderson, I'm sure you know about Connor's prototype status. His systems are even more advanced than mine, behind only Nines," Nines receives a nod, which he returns.

"And?" Hank challenges.

"And that means not all parts are going to be compatible with his model, Hank. Our optical units are different from any other android, Markus included. We take in a lot more information, and we see a lot more," Nines voice is monotone once again.

 _I should have been faster._

"I've already updated Captain Fowler at the police department. We will have replacements soon, but he's going to have to wait a week. I'm sorry, but that's the best I can do," Markus' tone is apologetic and Hank visibly deflates, all anger dissipating, "He's still in stasis so his self-repairs systems can function at full capacity, but you can take him home now if you want."

Nines agrees to let Hank drive Connor home, if only to give himself the time to calm down. Once Connor was fully recovered, he was in for quite the lecture, but for now, he had to focus on helping his older brother. As he takes in the scenery, decidedly not speeding this time, he devises a method to care for the RK800 and informs the Captain and his partner of his decision to take the week off.

When Nines returns home, he grabs Connor's favorite mug and fills it with some thirium, sending Hank to bed with a promise to watch him as he recovers. He pulls up their desk chair, and settles in for the long night, counting down the seconds until Connor wakes up.

Connor is roused from stasis at 05:34:12, and his stress levels immediately jump to 15 percent when his foggy eyes open. Nines gently touches his arms, sending a request for an interface as his other hand musses Connor's hair. The prototype detective latches on to the interface without a second's hesitation, centering himself before he talks, "I can't see."

"So you've said multiple times," Nines voice is cool but he sends a wave of reassurance through their connection, "New Jericho didn't have any compatible units but we'll replace them in a week. Markus promised."

Connor frowns, his brows furrowing as he sits himself up, reaching out for the mug Nines guides into his hands, "I don't like this."

"I want to try something, once you're feeling up to it. It might help."

The older android tilts his head as he sips from the mug, "You know androids do not require recovery time following an injury. Once we are repaired, that's it."

"And you know I didn't mean physically."

Annoyance drifts through their connection from Connor's side and Nines smirks as he deepens their connection. He gently guides Connor through his code and allows him access to his own visual feed, giving Connor the ability to see through his own eyes. The annoyance shifts to gratitude and Connor watches as a smile forms on his own face. "What did you do to my hair?"

Nines hopes Connor can see his eye roll as he replies, "We aren't starting on that argument again."

"Thank you, Nines," his tone is soft, as is his smile, "Now go into stasis, your energy levels are a bit low, I can feel it."

"I'm supposed to be taking care of you."

"And I'm the older brother. From what Lieutenant Anderson has told me, that makes you my responsibility."

Nines pulls away from the interface, blinking in sync with Connor as it fades away, "Alright, Connor. But please refrain from moving around without me and wake me if you require assistance."

"Of course, Nines. Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere."

Nines doesn't miss the double meaning behind Connor's words.

 **{STRESS LEVELS 0%}**


	6. On the Subject of Winter

Connor did not particularly enjoy the winter.

In fact, most androids did not. It was not the cold that bothered them; the conditions had to be extreme for even the hint of a shiver to appear. For most, it was the memories associated with the season. Memories of blue blood spilt in snowy streets, of freezing water during attempted border crossings, of cold-induced shutdowns after prolonged exposure to Detroit's icy elements. For the deviant RK800, it was a loss of self control in the midst of a swirling blizzard with the damning words of a mentor freezing his bicomponents more than ice ever could.

It didn't help that the winter holidays often put Lieutenant Anderson in a depressed state despite Connor's best efforts.

So yes, Connor very much disliked winter. And he despised the situation he was in even more.

 **{WARNING: INTERNAL TEMPERATURE 91͐°}**

 **{PLEASE SEEK A WARMER ENVIRONMENT}**

Connor snorts softly to himself. Yes, he knew he was cold, making the warning itself redundant. And he couldn't exactly _seek a warmer environment_ at the moment with his legs damaged from the freezing water he had subjected them to in his attempt to stop the dangerous android suspect from crossing the river to the Canadian border. In hindsight, jumping into the water after the boat hadn't been his brightest idea, considering there was only a 12% of success and the fact that the water was 28F. Hank would call the move reckless, but since the Lieutenant didn't seem to want to answer his phone, Connor supposed he would have to settle for finding out what his brother would call it.

 **{RK900: Well, it would seem your plan for catching our suspect was injudicious.}**

 **{RK800: If I say please, would you stop berating me and come help?}**

 **{RK900: And now, we have to involve federal agents to catch him.}**

 **{RK800: Nines, I am very cold.}**

 **{RK900: I am already en route to your location. What is your current temperature?}**

Connor's eyes blink rapidly while he performs the diagnostic as he begins to shiver, his systems attempting to warm his body in a very human manner.

 **{COMMAND ACKNOWLEDGED: RUN DIAGNOSTIC}**

 **{WARNING: INTERNAL TEMPERATURE 90°}**

 **{BIOCOMPONENTS #8427g, #8429b DAMAGED}**

 **{PROBABILITY OF REQUIRING REPAIRS: 89%}**

 **{ALL SYSTEMS FUNCTIONAL AT 70%}**

 **{PROBABILITY OF PERMANENT SYSTEM DAMAGE: 20%}**

 **{END DIAGNOSTIC}**

 **{RK800: My internal temperature is currently at 90° although my legs were damaged by the cold water and require repairs.}**

 **{RK900: I am about 32 minutes from your approximate location.}**

He frowns at Nines' estimated time as he watches his temperature drop another degree. Above him, the darkened sky releases a single snowflake, and Connor watches it fall to the ground in front of him. Currently seated with his back pressed against an evergreen tree (a Scotch Pine, his database cheerfully informs him), he felt confident the cover its needles provided would protect him from the worst of the snowfall. However, it did nothing to prevent the windchill sweeping through his jacket and chilling his chassis even further, or to stop the temperature outside fall from ten degrees to five as the night progressed.

 **{RK800: Turn on your sirens.}**

There is a second of hesitation from Nines, something that worries Connor even more than the notification telling him to seek shelter from the elements.

 **{RK900: You already know I did, Con.}**

Ah well, that was to be expected. While no shutdown timer had appeared in his vision, the detective android knew that 32 minutes would be cutting it close, and at the very least, he was more than likely to suffer from permanent systems damage. He sighed; Hank was going to be very upset.

 **{RK900: Don't think like that Connor. He'll just be relieved that you'll be alright.}**

Shit. He didn't realize he had transmitted that thought to Nines. Belatedly, he realizes that his temperature had dropped yet another degree; the combination of the water freezing on his soaked jeans and the wind quickly leeching heat from his plastic and metal body starting to take its toll. His shivering intensifies as he starts to grasp the severity of his situation. An android's body temperature was typically around 95 degrees, just warm enough to mimic a human's but just cold enough to show up differently on a thermal scan. Damaged occured to their body when their temperature reached 90 degrees, although various failsafes helped to prevent such a drastic fall in temperature, ensuring androids could work in extreme conditions with few breaks. However, outside forces could cause them to fail, and Connor's situation was a combination of those forces.

 **{RK900: Talk to me, Connor. What's your systems status?}**

 **{RK800: I'm okay.}**

Connor could practically see the eye roll that only he seemed capable of causing. He smiled, pleased by the revelation. Determined to assuage the younger android's concern, however, he quickly adds on to his statement before Nines can respond.

 **{RK800: All systems are still fully functional. I'll make it. I think I'll take some warmed thirium when we get home, however. You get to make it this time.}**

 **{RK900: I'll just command Sumo to pin you to your bed.}**

He frowns at the static starting to lace his brother's words, confused by the sudden change.

 **{RK800: Why is your voice going static, Nines? Are you damaged?}**

The internal clock resting in the corner of his vision informs him that the following pause lasts for ten seconds, although it barely seemed like one had passed.

 **{RK900: I am quite well, Con. Talk to me about your surroundings. Can you tell me what you see?}**

It takes his body a full two seconds to respond to his commands, something he cannot bring himself to be properly concerned about, and swivels his head to take in his surroundings. The snow had since intensified, muting the water's noisily lapping edge and dimming the world into a grayscale. Next to him, he can see a small, wooden boat dock, slowly rotting away after spending years subjected to the Detroit River and its currents. He focuses on the ice forming a slick sheath on the support beams, watches as the water splashing onto it thickens the casing.

 **{RK800: I'm watching ice form on the boat dock near me. It's quite fascinating to watch. And there's-}**

 **{WARNING: TEMPERATURE 86°}**

 **{SEEK WARMER ENVIRONMENT BEFORE TEMPORARY SHUTDOWN}**

 **{EMERGENCY TEMPORARY SHUTDOWN INITIATED IN 1:45}**

 **{EMERGENCY TEMPORARY SHUTDOWN INITIATED IN 1:44}**

 **{DISMISS NOTIFICATION (Y/N)?}**

 **{NOTIFICATION DISMISSED}**

Connor blinks away the notification as his LED transitions to red, the slight light casting a sullen glow on his right side. It was alright, someone was coming and they would get him someplace warm. He'd be fine. More than anything, though, he just wanted to close his eyes and fall into stasis while he waited. He assumed this is what humans called exhaustion; the heavy weight pulling down his eyelids, tilting his chin toward his chest, the cold finally fading away from his hands. He couldn't wait to tell Markus about the new feeling, this sense of exhaustion. He is jolted from his musing and the pleasant sensation of warmth returning to his hands by the static sounding in his ears, growing more and more insistent.

 **{RK900: -nor! I need you to focus on me right now! Can you hear me?}**

 **{RK800: Your voice is still staticy, Nines. Are you sure you aren't damaged? Do you need my assistance?}**

 **{RK900: I'm almost to you now, I need you to stay focused, do you understand? Tell me more about the ice on the dock, okay?}**

 **{RK800: I'm tired, Nines. I didn't know I could feel tired. I have to tell Markus about this.}**

 **{RK900: Tell me about the dock, Connor. What color is it? What kind of wood is it made out of?}**

 **{RK800: I'm ready to go into stasis. Would you make sure to refill Sumo's dish? I'm sure Hank forgot to do so this morning.}**

 **{EMERGENCY TEMPORARY SHUTDOWN INITIALIZED IN 5}**

 **{RK900: No Connor, don't do that yet please. Wait until I'm with you.}**

 **{4}**

 **{3}**

 **{2}**

 **{RK900: Connor, please answer me.}**

 **{1}**

 **{CONNECTION WITH RK900: END}**

 **{EMERGENCY TEMPORARY SHUTDOWN INITIALIZED}**

 **{GOODNIGHT RK800 #313 248 317 - 51}**

* * *

The moment Connor disconnected, Nines slammed his foot onto the gas, doubling his speed despite the car's protests and notifications informing him of the law he is currently in violation of. He was still five minutes away from the freezing android, and he was determined to get to him in two. The speedometer's needle climbs upwards steadily as the snow continues to fall with increasing gusto. Despite the worsening conditions, Nines guides the car skillfully off the road, driving toward the river where he knows Connor is waiting for him.

He makes it in three minutes.

The RK900 exits the car and slams the door closed in one graceful motion, already diverting power to his legs as he rushes to toward the boat dock Connor described. His head on a swivel, he scans the area for his older brother and quickly finds him leaning against a tree, head dropped and eyes closed. The crimson LED swirls lazily in his temple, occasionally blinking to indicate his system's distress. Before Nines is fully aware that he is moving, he is already in kneeling in front of the unresponsive prototype, hands cupping the cold synthetic skin on his face. The sensors located in his fingertips register a temperature of 85 degrees, five degrees colder than it should ever be. "Connor, can you hear me?"

No response.

Nines presses his index and middle finger to Connor's LED, attempting to run a diagnostic.

 **{DIAGNOSTIC COMMENCING…}**

 **{ALL SYSTEMS TEMPORARILY OFFLINE}**

 **{INTERNAL TEMPERATURE 85.2°}**

 **{EMERGENCY TEMPORARY SHUTDOWN INITIATED}**

 **{BIOCOMPONENTS #8427g, #8429b DAMAGED}**

 **{BIOCOMPONENTS #8427g, #8429b REPAIRS REQUIRED}**

 **{TIME UNTIL FULL SHUTDOWN: 1:05:12}**

 **{END DIAGNOSTIC}**

Good. He had an hour left until full shutdown. He could easily get Connor warmed and online by then. He lifts the RK800 bridal style and rushes him to the warmth of his patrol car, radioing the precinct to update them on the case and Connor's condition as he calculates the distance between his location and New Jericho. Taking off his own jacket and laying it over Connor's still form, he furrows his brows at the estimate.

 **{ESTIMATED TIME OF ARRIVAL: 45:12}**

No, that simply would not do at all. Sliding into the driver's seat, he calculates the distance to Lieutenant Anderson's home. The repairs could wait, as neither biocomponent was vital to Connor's function. While he would certainly be nonplussed by his inability to use his legs until such a time that repairs could be performed, he could live with it.

 **{ESTIMATED TIME OF ARRIVAL: 15:19}**

Much better. His speed is much slower than it was during his rush to arrive, although he keeps checking the rearview mirror to reassure himself that Connor's LED has not gone dark as he periodically scans his brother. He attempts to contact the Lieutenant cybernetically to inform him of their wayward charge's plight, holding back a sigh of frustration when there is no answer. Great, he would be surprised then.

Fantastic.

Pulling into the drive, he holds down the horn for fourteen seconds before exiting his vehicle to pull Connor into his arms again. He is mildly pleased when he notes Connor's temperature at 88 degrees, his advanced systems slowly coming online to work into overdrive to revive their owner. He kicks open the door, ignoring Hank's curses (although he did just add two new words to his vocabulary to use with Detective Reed), opting to deposit Connor onto the couch.

"What the fuck happened to him now?" Hank's voice is concerned, although Nines social integration software informs him that the facial expression would be defined as exasperated. Humans were constantly full of contradictions, Nines muses.

"If you would have answered your phone, you would have seen that both Connor and I contacted you, attempting to update you of his situation," Nines performs a scan of the human, fixing him with a steely glare as he drapes the blanket over Connor, "It would appear your blood alcohol levels are elevated. May I inquire as to the reason why?"

Hank moves from his position, coming to drape his hand over Connor's forehead, his frown deepening as he feels the cold skin. Nines prepares himself for Hank's combativeness when the detective surprises him yet again. "I'll go let Sumo in, maybe the old lug can help warm him up. Then we'll talk, okay kid?"

Nines nods sharply, turning his blue-eyed gaze back onto his slowly recovering brother. He kneels in front of the couch and rests two fingers on his LED to perform another diagnostic.

 **{DIAGNOSTIC COMMENCING…}**

 **{SYSTEMS OPERATING AT 42%}**

 **{INTERNAL TEMPERATURE 90°}**

 **{EMERGENCY TEMPORARY SHUTDOWN INITIATED}**

 **{BIOCOMPONENTS #8427g, #8429b DAMAGED}**

 **{BIOCOMPONENTS #8427g, #8429b REPAIRS REQUIRED}**

 **{TIME UNTIL FULL REBOOT: 5:49}**

 **{END DIAGNOSTIC}**

As Nines moves his hand away from Connor's head, the android's LED switches from red to yellow and it begins to spin faster. The previously still figure begins to shiver again as Hank returns, patting Connor's leg to urge the Saint Bernard on lay down top of him. "So, you wanna tell me what happened?" Hank settles into the recliner, blue eyes tired and slightly red.

"He was attempting to stop the suspect from the Schimel murder case when the deviant jumped into a boat to cross the border. Connor attempted to continue the chase and opted to jump into the river despite a low chance of success. As a result, his systems froze and the cold negatively affected his processors. He's warming up now, though I'll need to take him to New Jericho for repairs to both of his legs," Nines retracts the skin from his palm, reaching out to take Connor's quaking arm, "Why didn't you answer your phone, Lieutenant? He tried calling you and you could have gotten there faster."

Nines frowns as the connection request is blocked and he removes his hand, watching as Connor turns his head, hiding the LED from sight. Hank sighs, the grizzled detective looking far older than his years as his eyes grow distant. "I musta forgotten to take it off the charger in my room. I'm sorry, kiddo, it's just been a rough day. It's winter and, well…" he gestures vaguely, "I've got some shitty memories is all."

"Connor does too, you know," Nines voice is less monotone now, although the annoyance is still present in the glance he sends the Lieutenant's way.

At the mention of his name, Connor's head jerks back as he mumbles incoherently. "Connor? Can you hear me?" Nines attempts to interface again, as Hank abruptly stands.

"...Mmmm-annda," his voice is distorted, glitching with static as his voice slowly comes online, "c-c-c-c-old. Don't."

"I know you're cold, Con, don't worry. We're gonna warm you up," Hank rubs small circles on Connor's temples, watching as the deviant relaxes and allows his head to sink back into the couch.

"Amanda is gone, I'm here," Nines prods at Connor's block, interfacing with him again for a more accurate systems diagnostic.

"Is it his preconstruction software again?" Hank is staring at the skin retracting from Nines touch, exposing the white plastisteel of Connor's arm with a gentle, blue glow.

Nines shakes his head as he sends waves of comfort toward Connor, feelings of warmth and admiration at the forefront to combat the memories of apathy and blizzards inside of the zen garden. The shivering android's stress levels lower immediately, although they don't disappear entirely. "No, his systems are just manually rebooting one by one, and a few are glitching. I suspect he is also suffering from negative mental feedback due to memories he has associated with the cold. I'm attempting to ease the strain off his systems."

"In English, please?"

"He has PTSD and is suffering from the effects of hypothermia. I'm taking in some of his discomfort so he doesn't stress out and interrupt the reboot sequence."

"N-n-niines...why is Hank's voice sta-sta-staticy? He isn't an ann-drrrrroid," Brown irises slowly reappear, his half-lidded gaze finding Sumo to bring a smile to his face.

"It would appear his auditory units and voice module are glitching as well, Lieutenant."

Hank smiles softly and moves to kneel besides Nines, turning Connor's chin so he is looking at him, "Welcome back to the land of the living, son. Stop being a reckless asshole, got it?"

"G-g-g-g-g-g," Connor blinks as his shivering slows, "G-got it."

 **{RK900: I'm sure you mean that.}**

Connor ignores Nines although a rush of gratitude assures Nines that he is appreciative. "Hiiii Suuuuuuuumo," the deviant RK800 moves an uncoordinated hand to scratch the dog's head, "I miiiissed you today, Haaaankkk."

"Fucking dopey ass androids, gonna be the death of me."

Connor's eyes open fully as he takes in the Lieutenant's appearance. "Are are are you okay, Lieutenant?"

Nines stays quiet, his LED yellow as he assists Connor with the glitches in his systems. "It makes sense that you'd still be able to pronounce my fucking title."

"I-I-I-I can't scan youuu, Lieutenant, but but I suspect you'vve been drinking," Connor winces as a feedback loops jerks his head backwards again, "Does it have toooo do with wiiiinnnnnnnter?"

"I'm more worried about you, Connor. Don't worry about me."

"It'ssssss my joo-oob as your paaartner, Haaaaannnnnnkkkkkkkkkk."

Hank rolls his eyes but he decides to respond to Connor's question, "Yeah, it does. Just a shitty time of the year for me."

Connor nods, blinking rapidly as his LED momentarily blinks to red then back to yellow, "Meeeee toooooooo. But-but-but we'll get throoouuuuuuugh it togetheerrrrr. Juust like a faaamilyyyyy. Riiiight, Nines?"

Nines smiles as he tears through a piece of malicious code, corrupted by the temporary shutdown, "Yeah, Con. Just like a family," Nines meets Hank's eyes and smiles, "Family."


	7. On the Subject of Song and Integration

**A/N: Written for anonymous-idfk on Tumblr. Sorry for the late update! I'm working on a few WIPs and work got busy but I'm adjusted so it should be faster in the future! Let me know what you think!**

Both his appearance and voice were specifically designed to facilitate his integration into human society as the perfect partner.

So it shouldn't have come as a surprise that the kid _could fucking sing_. Because of course CyberLife would decide to give Connor a set of pipes while neglecting to give him a set of self-preservation. Of course the ability to sing took priority over protecting his own life, especially whenever Hank's was involved.

Fuck him though, it came as quite the surprise to Lieutenant Anderson that Connor could sing a gentle tune while holding a child. And judging from the not-so-subtle looks the officers in the precinct were giving him? Everyone else agreed.

Chris had come in on his day off, juggling six-month old Damien and a cardboard box in his arms when Connor offered to give him a hand. Hank was fairly confident the android had meant to grab the box, but much to the RK800's surprise, the child was hastily given to him with a muttered thanks before rushing to the archive room. Hank was going have to ask Nines later to hack the office's security cameras so he could get a picture of Connor's shocked face.

"Officer Miller, I'm not sure I'm properly equipped for child care," Connor had called after the retreating father.

"You two are the same age, just find some common ground, Con," Chris replied with a smile before disappearing down the hallway.

Connor made his way back to his desk chair, LED blinking yellow twice before settling on a calm blue. To the untrained eye, the kid's face was mechanical, devoid of emotion or empathy. To Hank and a select few, Connor was an obvious bundle of nerves. From the slight twitch of his left eye to the subtle bounce of his right leg, the android was anxious. He had no doubt in his mind that Connor would be flicking his coin back and forth if it wasn't for the bundle in his arms. "What's with the danger-yellow there, kid? Don't tell me you just looked up proper baby holding 101?"

His LED flickered yellow once again before switching back to blue, his eyes blinking rapidly as he read information that Hank couldn't see. Damien cooed as he was adjusted in Connor's arms, reaching toward the glowing light on the android's temple.

Hank was willing to bet that Conor had just fucking done that.

At the baby's babbling, Connor's face softened and he reached a finger out to Damien's reaching hand which the child grabbed with delight evident on his face. "He's so…."

"I think the word you're looking for is small, Connor," Hank had finished for him.

"Very much so, Lieutenant."

"Move your left arm up a bit so you're supporting his head a bit more, Connor. Is what Chris said true about you two being the same age?" Officer Tina Chen sat on the edge of Connor's desk, waving to Damien as she did so.

Hank's smile grew at the comment, nearly laughing at the slight frown that crossed Connor's face. With Connor's deviancy came a measure of pride, and Hank knew that Tina's question would bring out some smartass answer only Connor could come up with.

"Actually, Officer Chen, I'm two weeks and three days older."

Tina huffed along with Hank, eyes crinkling in amusement before she raised her arms in a surrendering gesture, "My bad, Con, my bad."

Connor gently pried his finger away from the chubby hand and reached around Officer Chen for his terminal, skin retracted. Before he could reach, however, Damien's face scrunched and Hank groaned, already knowing what was coming. At the child's sudden cry, Connor startled and his LED blipped crimson before settling on yellow.

Well god-fucking-damn it, Hank didn't know anything could make the _most advanced prototype ever created_ jump out of his artificial skin, let alone a _crying baby_. "How do I fix this, Hank?"

If Connor was forgoing Hank's title while at work, the horror of it all, the kid must have been pretty fucking panicked. "Every baby's fucking different, Connor. Try singing?"

Both Tina and Connor hushed Hank as soon as the curse left his mouth and Hank rolled his eyes. "Studies have suggested that human children can understand words as soon as six months, Lieutenant."

"Don't use swear words around kids, Hank," he rolled his eyes harder while Tina continued speaking to Connor in a low voice, "Although it's not a bad idea. My little sisters used to refuse to go to sleep without a song when they were little."

Damien had continued squirming in Connor's arms, and his LED had stubbornly refused to switch back to the calm azure it normally was. But his face had finally switched from the panicked expression to a gentle smile as he returned his finger to Damien's hand, and he opened his mouth to shock the entire department.

"Hush now, mo stóirín, close your eyes and sleep. Waltzing the waves, diving in the deep. Stars are shining bright, the wind is on the rise, whispering words of long lost lullabies."

His voice was soft and had taken on a quality Hank had never heard from the android before. The low volume of his voice notwithstanding, most officers milling around stopped working to listen, not attempting to be discreet while moving toward the duo for a better listen. The grizzled police lieutenant himself didn't bother to hide his shock either and he knew if Connor was paying attention to him, he would have made some sarcastic comment about flies and his gaping mouth. Connor, however, didn't have eyes for anyone but the brown-eyed child hiccuping in his arms with tears streaming down his face.

"Oh won't you come with me, where the moon is made of gold and in the morning sun, we'll be sailing. Oh won't you come with me, where the ocean meets the sky and as the clouds roll by, we'll sing the song of the sea."

"Holy shit, Hank, dude's got a pair of pipes," Tina whispered to the staring Lieutenant.

Hank only muttered something about language under his breath, watching and listening as Connor's voice gently rose and fell with the lyrics to a song he vaguely recognized.

"I had a dream last night and heard the sweetest sound. I saw a great white light and dancers in the round. Castles in the sand, cradles in the trees. Don't cry, I'll see you by and by."

By this point, Chris had returned to the main floor, eyebrows raising at the scene before him. Nearly every officer in the precinct was by Hank and Connor's desks, listening with rapt attention. Slowly, Damien's cries began to quiet as the android detective continued singing in a gentle baritone and began to settle in Connor's arms.

"Oh won't you come with me where the moon is made of gold. And in the morning sun, we'll be sailing. Oh won't you come with me where the ocean meets the sky. And as the clouds roll by, we'll sing the song of the sea. Rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling."

Still nearly incredulous at the sight before him, Hank couldn't stop the muted smile from forming, blue eyes crinkling at the edges. Damien hiccupped once, twice before staring into Connor's eyes, his mouth slightly agape and cheeks red from crying.

"Oh won't you come with me, where the moon is made of gold. And in the morning sun, we'll be sailing free. Oh won't you come with me, where the ocean meets the sky. And as the clouds roll by, we'll sing the song of the sea. Grá go deo," Connor finished as Chris waded through the crowd, giving a few officers friendly shoves before clasping a hand on the android's shoulders.

"Thanks, Connor. I really appreciate it."

"It was my pleasure, Officer Miller," Connor's smile turns from gentle to forced when he takes in the crowd.

"Please, call me Chris. We're friends, and I'm technically off after all," Chris gives another officer a shove, "Get back to work before the Captain gets on all of you, show's over."

As the crowd disperses, a few sending Connor thumbs up and mimicked applause as they go, Connor returns Damien to his father. "It was my pleasure, Chris. It was an interesting experience, to say the least."

"Kids in general are an interesting experience, Con," Hank laughs, nodding at Chris as he leaves, "Didn't know you could fucking sing like that."

Connor gives him a rare shit-eating grin before returning to a more neutral expression, despite the light in his eyes, "CyberLife androids are designed to work harmoniously with humans. Both my appearance, and voice, were specifically designed to facilitate my integration," his voice is carefully dispassionate as he chooses his next words, "I suppose CyberLife didn't 'fuck up' with my design after all."

"Watch it kid, else you might overclock your sass module."

"Technically speaking, Lieutenant, it would be called my sarcasm program as a module is actually a combin-"

"You're walking home if you finish that sentence."

Connor's LED skips a merry blue as he connects to his terminal, "There's a 76% I'd still beat you home with the way you drive, Hank."

This fucking plastic punk was going to be the death of him.


End file.
